i’ve been in brooklyn for almost 8 years now, in connecticut before that, alaska before that, and spain before that.
i’ve taken a bit from each place. my irremovable waspy pearl earrings and knot tying skills from ct, my love of good smoked salmon and sledding skills from alaska, and my smoking habit and affection for architecture and graffiti from brooklyn.
but the one place that has stuck with me the most is spain. there, my passion for food was ignited. i grew up in granada, and the thing that made me want to go back every summer more than anything (besides learning the latest curse words from my cousins) were the churros. one foot off the plane, and my nose was already searching for that smell of sunflower oil deep frying dough. one dip of the warm churro into the dark chocolate ganache or a cappuccino and i knew i was home.
now i’m here. an unemployed architect. a part-time babysitter. a dollar scrounger. a binge drinking pseudo-brooklynite. a food experimenter during my endless hours of free time.
so i decided i’m going to bring that experience of the churro to the states. this is about my journey.